


To Burn

by WolfVenom



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Assassins & Hitmen, Blood and Injury, Burns, Character Death, Chases, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Hitman AU, Identity Reveal, M/M, Medical Procedures, Police, Secret Identity, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-21 03:18:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14907305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfVenom/pseuds/WolfVenom
Summary: A super duper old r76 drabble for @lea-vesfalling on Tumblr, and their Hitman 76 AU. This was like, 2016 I think.





	To Burn

The detective had his back pressed tight to the wall, stone cold brick digging into his sore muscles. From hours hunched over his desk, wringing every lead laid before him for clues, to the vigorous hunts chasing the culprit, he hasn't been this exhausted in his life. But he wouldn't quit now. Hitman 76 was before him, tail wagging like they were having a playful chase, but Gabriel Reyes just wanted to latch his hungry jaws into the damn killer and rip him to a bloody pulp. 

 

Ana was squeezed tight beside him, her rifle in hand, finger grazing the trigger but not quite pressed. Reyes glanced in her direction, holding his hand out in silent command to hold position, before he tuned into McCree’s comm. 

 

In a hushed whisper, “Kid, cover the third floor with Genji. Ana and I will flank from below and Reinhardt will block the exit to make the arrest. Move in.” 

 

With his order concluded, Ana nodded in response to her commanders stare and pulled out of position, glaring behind the scope of her rifle down the alley, leading into the abandoned factory. 

 

The building was made of orange brick, crumbling apart and dusty, not touched in decades. It was probably due for reconstruction, as this whole site hadn't been touched since the nineties. But his gut knew this was the place. After putting a bullet through the pawn shop clerks head, 76 had lead the police directly to his stakeout, using his own blood trail. 

 

Amari had pulled the trigger directly into his ankle, shattering the bone and causing immense damage. Reyes knew he couldn't run for long now. 

 

McCree tuned static in response as Reyes and Amari made their way in through the broken back door, cobwebs threading through where the door used to be. Reinhardt was positioned at the wide open front entrance in preparation for when they chased 76 down here. They didn't let the Hitman know he was in the squad, as to make sure he wouldn't plan ahead of them. 

Gabriel's heart raced, pushing erratically against his ribs, bursting to get free. 76 was armed and dangerous and could easily kill any one of them. It brought him some relief he told Jack how much he loved him before the other left for military duty a few days prior to the appearance of 76.

 

“Hold position, Jesse. He's here.” Gabe said through his teeth, firearm held taut in front of his face, ready to fire. There was a grimey substance coating the entire floor around this warehouse, leading directly towards the shelves in the front. It smelled oily, like gas, but it was mostly the old machines upstairs causing the stench. 

 

It was too quiet. Ana shifted, uncomfortable, and Gabe squinted into the darkness. 

 

“Boo.”

 

The automatic monotone voice startled both detectives, and Gabe whipped around to fire, Amari ducking and rolling out of the way and to a high sniping point. 76 sat on the floor, drenched in sweat and his fancy suit mused up and blood stained. Through that damn mask, the detective just knew the smug bastard was smiling. 

 

Lowering his weapon, Gabriel waved Ana off. “Call in the others, prepare the arrest,” and with that, she clocked into the station and left the building, heading for the back. 

 

“Gabriel Reyes, commanding detective at the L.A precinct. My name is 76. Pleasure to meet you.” 76 grumbled out, clearly disgruntled over his foot. 

 

“Quiet, 76. You have the right to remain silent-” he began reading the rights. 

 

“Say, Gabo,” 76 interrupted. Gabe paid no mind to the nickname. 

 

“-anything you say can and will be held against you-”

 

“... How about I serve you one last drink before we hightail it?”

 

With handcuffs in hand, Gabriel realized too late the little box of lighter fluid in the perpetrators hand, watched the flame spark and couldn't scream loud enough when 76 chucked it full force towards Amari. 

 

The realization hit as soon as fire touched wood. Gasoline. The damn crook covered the place in it. And with cold dread, Gabe saw that it wasn't sweat on the hitman’s body. 76 had drenched himself in gasoline. 

 

The place burst alive with roaring flames, the blast knocking Ana clear out of sight as 76 launched himself at the older detective. He planned on lighting Gabriel up with him, the officer thought. 

 

The flames knocked loose the already charred pillars supporting the upper level, and the room came crashing down upon both Hitman and Detective. 

  
  


                               - - - 

 

He was inhaling oxygen. Gabriel was struck awake by the feeling of ash being flushed from his lungs and replaced by cool, fresh air. 

 

He coughed, hacked and sputtered and groaned in pain, throat raw from smoke and with dull sense, realized his flesh was still smouldering from flames. 

 

But there was no energy left to scream in pain. There were paramedics surrounding him, talking hurriedly to one another. When noticing his opened eyes, the head medic flashed a light in his eyes. 

 

“Detective Reyes, can you hear me? You've suffered third-degree burns to the left side of your body, we’re putting you under morphine and taking you to the hospital for further treatment.” She stated. He groaned. 

 

“Seventy-six… Did we capture Seventy-six. I-is he alive?” Reyes questioned, sore all over. 

 

A face popped in on his right, instantly recognizable as McCree. “We got ‘im, boss. We… We'll tell you more when yer back on yer feet…”

 

***

 

Reyes was sure he was going to smash that damn heart monitor if he had to sit through one more beep. Thick layers of gauze coated the sticky burns on his side and though the agony was unbearable, he could stand it in favour of hearing out the case report. 

 

“Ana Amari made it out with Jesse McCree and only first-degree burns. Reinhardt Wilhelm was uninjured and carried four bodies from the rubble, you, Amari, Shimada and Seventy-six.” The peace officer read off the case report to the detective, sitting by his bedside with McCree. 

 

Reyes listened intently to the officer, absorbing every detail. 

 

“Shimada. He didn't make it through the blast. After the roof collapsed he was pinned under an old oil rig after saving Jesse’s life and bled out from his injuries. Doctor Ziegler attended to his body.” The atmosphere went from victorious to sour in a heartbeat. Reyes felt sick, knowing Genji, who was under his wing, died so horribly under command. But he couldn't grieve yet. 

“And Seventy-six? What about him?” Reyes coughed, scratching his chin gently. 

 

The officer exchanged glances with McCree, as if asking permission to speak. 

 

“Hitman Seventy-six has been captured alive, in critical condition. The flames boiled the mask and melded to his face. The surgery removed the melted plastic but his face is hardly recognizable anymore. Blood tests are on their way,” not yet finished with his report, he unbuckled and buckled his holster in nervousness, “his identity has been confirmed. Seventy-six is under a medical coma in high security E.R.” And the officer concluded, excusing himself. 

 

Gabriel turned to McCree, sitting up in his bed. 

 

“That bastard is gonna pay for this. Jesse, call Jack and let him know what's happened. He should be home by now.” The detective asked, cracking his stiff joints. 

 

Jesse didn't answer. 

 

“McCree?”

 

“I already did, Reyes,” he pulled a charred phone from his pocket, tossing it to Gabe, “he let me know.”

 

Gabriel didn't notice him leave as he turned the phone over in his good hand. With a push of a button the screen came up, a little worse for wear with a crack that large, and asked him to unlock. 

 

Swallowing, he swiped up and opened the device. The beeping monitor started screeching as he digested the background before him. It was Reyes himself, curled around a pillow still wearing his work clothes, laying down on Jack's lap. 

 

Jack's phone. 

 

There was a single app left open, a recorded message unable to send. With shaking fingers, he opened it up. 

 

***

 

“ _ Hey, Gabe. It's me. I won't be coming home from this mission. Things took a bad turn and I messed up, real bad. Man, Amari has really nice aim, haha. Thought I could actually dodge that one. But I knew I couldn't dodge you. I really wanted you to make it out of that one, even if I didn't,”  _ a breath _ , “You remember Jackal, the puppy I brought home a month ago? Can you take care of him, please? He can't sleep alone and he gets scared in big spaces. Congratulations on closing the case, babe. I'm sorry I loved you so much. _

 

_ “Forgive me.” _

 

Beep.

 

***

 

He didn't know what emotion tore through his belly as he watched doctors try and resuscitate the man's heart, which had stopped beating after they say an unknown amount of air had been administered into the IV. He watched as they tried everything in their arsenal, from defibrillators to CPR, but he knew, deep down, as he watched them cease efforts and cover that mutilated body with a crisp white sheet. 

 

Jack Morrison knew he was never gonna escape from his fate. 

 

And the videotapes show that the shame was enough for him to inject his bloodstream with oxygen. 

 

***

 

“Remember him, Jackal? Remember Jack? Do you miss him buddy?” The old detective cooed at the large golden lab at his side, muzzle flecked with grey just like the detectives once solid-brown hair. 

 

The dog whined, hefting his face to lay on his owners lap, content with the soft breeze and chatter of birds and the serene atmosphere of the cemetery. 

 

Like it's previous master, the pup passed away at the same headstone he lay under. 

 

_ John “Jack” Morrison _

_ Still Loved, Always.  _


End file.
